Midday Distractions
by CE Winters
Summary: A tantalizing peek at Kurt's bare shoulder during French class proves an unbearable distraction for Blaine, and leads to a little something more after the bell rings. Klaine one-shot. Blaine does love his Victorian relationship with Kurt's ivory shoulder.


_A/N: A little Bloulder drabble I got the sudden irrepressible urge to write. Fluffy, non-smutty but (hopefully) still hot :)_

_Enjoy!_

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><p>Blaine had been staring at the same spot on the wall for at least fifteen minutes. The teacher was droning on in what he supposed ought to be French, but it was starting to sound more and more like he had been dropped into the Charlie Brown classroom where the teacher spoke in a wordless mumble. If this had been his Italian class in Dalton, he was sure he'd be able to keep up more. But this was McKinley, and he was in French class.<p>

For a myriad of reasons, Kurt had transferred back to McKinley part of the way through their junior year, and for their final year of high school, Blaine had joined his boyfriend there. He'd even taken accelerated French courses during the summer so that he could get into the same class as Kurt. But, the illusions he had envisioned about their French class all came crashing down around him after the first actual day of lessons.

There would be no seductive conversations in the language of love, complete with flirty glances and coy tilts of the head – no. In reality there were worksheets…many, _many_ worksheets. Worksheets on converting verbs, worksheets on pronouns, worksheets on dialectical differences; Blaine could not think of one thing that was _less_ flirty and seductive than worksheets. That is, unless they were being thrown into the air during the open lines of a song.

He had stopped gelling back his hair after his transfer, and by then it had grown out to where the curls framing his forehead just flopped into his line of vision. Blaine figured that he could entertain himself for a good five or ten minutes by exhaling a steady stream of upward air and making the curls falling over his eyes levitate before his lungs ran out of air and they flopped down onto his forehead once more.

But that had been ten minutes ago. By this point – still half an hour from the end of the class – Blaine had exhausted all of his options. Wearily, he squinted up at the teacher and tried to concentrate. She was saying something about _something_ that was for sure. He was filled with the sudden certainty that he was going to fail the next test tremendously if he didn't figure out what she was saying, if it was even important. Then again, he could just ask Kurt for private tutoring.

At the thought of his boyfriend, Blaine looked down from where his eyes had been unseeingly observing their teacher to the boy sitting in front of him, scribbling furiously in his notebook and taking down everything the woman said. Yes, Blaine thought, a private tutoring session with Kurt would be _just_ the thing he needed.

Taken by a sudden mischievousness, Blaine poked his pencil into the soft part of Kurt's back, just under his shoulder blade. "Psst," he hissed quietly. "I'm bored."

Kurt's head twitched to the side quickly, as if he was about to look back at Blaine but stopped himself halfway. "We're in the middle of class," he responded, equally as quiet. "Here's an idea: why don't you actually _listen_ to the teacher?"

"She's so boring," Blaine complained. "It's like she's speaking a whole different language."

"She _is_ speaking a whole different language."

"You _know_ what I mean." Kurt didn't respond, and Blaine sat quietly for the next few moments. When she said something about 'un film sur la formation des verbes', Blaine sat back in his chair with relief. This should definitely take the rest of the class, he thought with elation.

The movie was actually capturing his interest, Blaine realized about five minutes in. If that wasn't a genuine miracle, then he didn't know what was. If his attention started to wander, it very rarely ever made it back. He felt like he should commemorate this moment somehow but then he'd run the mistake of his thoughts wandering off once again.

It was then that Blaine made his greatest mistake.

He looked down from the screen for only a moment. His purpose had been to write down a point he'd picked up in his notebook but something else had caught his eye's attention as it made its way down to his paper.

Blaine's gaze fixed on Kurt as the countertenor reached his left hand up to his right shoulder slowly. His thin fingers dipped under the fabric of his sweater and pushed the collar line away from his neck slowly, revealing the expanse of pale skin at his shoulder. To most people this would have looked as if Kurt was quickly massaging a sore shoulder or brushing off an itch, but Blaine knew better; this was revenge. His suspicions were confirmed when Kurt turned his head to the right, just enough to make eye contact with Blaine briefly.

Kurt made sure to lower his eyelids slowly, as if they were too heavy to keep open for any longer, even letting them close for a brief moment before he turned his head away to the front of the classroom again, hand still working its way in circles across his own shoulder, loose collar slipping ever lower over that ivory expanse.

Blaine had been transfixed the moment he'd realized what Kurt was up to, mouth parting subconsciously as he saw the way Kurt's head tilted sideways, like he knew the agony he was putting Blaine through and he was perfectly okay with it.

"Kurt," Blaine warned, voice coming out rougher than he had intended. He cleared his throat quietly, the sounds of their interaction disguised by the words rolling from the television. He cast his amber eyes around self-consciously but no one was paying them the least bit of attention. "Kurt, put it away."

"Put what away?" Kurt asked innocently, turning around in his seat slightly to face Blaine, collar still hanging around his shoulder. "I'm sorry, am I bothering you?" He grinned innocently, his cherubic face looking _too_ innocent.

"You know _what_," Blaine insisted, eyes wide as they tried to remain fixed on his face. "Yes, yes you are. You are bothering me and I am trying to watch this splendid motion picture about…verbs." His last scrap of dignity was hanging in the balance.

"You're trying to concentrate?" Kurt asked, brow furrowing in concern. "And I'm…bothering you? Oh, you don't appreciate it when people interrupt you when you're learning, hmm?"

Blaine lifted a triangular eyebrow, trying to appear unamused. "I get it," he informed Kurt. "Point taken, now put it away."

"I don't think I will," Kurt said simply, letting the collar of his sweater hang off of his shoulder unimpeded. "It's kind of hot in here, isn't it?" His shoulders rolled back and Blaine stared with his mouth halfway open as Kurt arched his back slightly, head dipping back.

"Yes," Blaine agreed hopelessly. "Yes, yes it is." Kurt's one naked shoulder remained directly in front of him; it was staring at him in the face, _mocking_ him. Blaine's eyes slid over the ivory surface. He knew from experience that the expanse of skin there felt every bit as soft as soft as it looked – _softer_ even, if that was possible. The pit of his stomach was starting to tingle in a wonderfully unpleasant way – one not at all suitable for class – and Blaine decided that this situation called for immediate action.

Before he could help himself, his hand snaked outward and his fingers brushed against Kurt's shoulder. By the way he could feel Kurt shiver under his touch, the countertenor had not been expecting that. Selfishly, Blaine was extremely pleased with his reaction. So, two _could_ play at that game. He looked around again to make sure that the attention of the class was still on the movie. That was the benefit of sitting on the edge of a classroom: you were out of their eye, for the most part.

Confident once more that they were clear of the semi-public eye, Blaine let his fingers trace over the side of Kurt's neck and down onto his shoulder. His hand slipped forward sneakily, pushing aside fabric to momentarily caress the edge of Kurt's collarbone. The countertenor quickly lifted his own hand and smacked at Blaine's but that failed to deter the former Warbler. Kurt had gotten him started, damn it, he couldn't sneak out of this situation so easily.

"Nu-uh," Blaine whispered, leaning forward slightly so that his words would only be heard by Kurt. "How rude, hitting a perfectly innocent person…"

"You are _not_ innocent," Kurt assured him. Blaine smiled with self-assurance as he saw the other boy lean into his caress, almost subconsciously.

"That's a horrible thing to say," Blaine breathed, hand moving backward again, tugging against Kurt's collar gently as his fingers brushed the contour of the top of Kurt's shoulder blade. "Aux grands maux, les grands remèdes – you only have yourself to blame."

"Aux innocents les main pleins, so it looks like _you_ are out of luck," Kurt shot back. "Maybe we should both just mind our business –"

"Now, you're just backing out because I –"

A loud throat-clearing came from their teacher and Blaine's hand shot back to his side like quicksilver. He shot an apologetic glance to their teacher, who leveled a serious look at him before turning her head back to the movie. Blaine could have sworn that he heard a distinct snicker come from Kurt.

Not two minutes later – _thankfully _ – the bell rang and the class began to file out, Kurt and Blaine among the first to make their escape into the halls of McKinley. Blaine began to go down the hall that led to their lockers but Kurt grabbed his hand and towed him in the opposite direction.

"Um…Kurt?" He asked, looking around self-consciously as people turned to look at them, unashamed. "What are you –?"

"Shh." Blaine shushed. Immediately. He stayed shushed all the way down the hall and into a tiny classroom that he hadn't even known existed. There were no books on the shelves and extra desks and chairs were stacked in the middle of the room, so he figured it must be only for storage.

Kurt shoved him through the door and closed it behind them, stepping around Blaine so that the black-haired boy was facing away from the door and into the room, toward Kurt. The countertenor leveled a pointing finger at his boyfriend, almost accusatorily. "You," he said sharply, poking his finger into the other's chest. "Are so annoying."

Blaine observed him with a carefully blank expression, thoroughly confused as to where this was going. He wasn't thoroughly convinced it wouldn't end in some sort of unexpected and heart wrenching breakup until the corner of Kurt's mouth turned upward and his pointing finger turned into a fist that grabbed roughly at Blaine's shirt front, pulling them that much closer together.

"So distracting," Kurt continued, dropping his book bag to the floor and tangling his other hand in the curls at the base of Blaine's head. "Why do you insist on me learning absolutely nothing in that class? Hmm?" His murmur transitioned seamlessly into a soft hum as his open lips caught Blaine's in between them. He lingered at the contact, grabbing onto Blaine's bottom lip and pressing into it gently with his teeth before teasingly catching it between his own lips again and drawing away slowly. A devilish smile was playing on the countertenor's lips even before they had fully parted.

Blaine had dropped his own bag and encircled Kurt's waist with his arms, drawing them closer together so that their flat chests rested snugly against one another. "You, Kurt Hummel, are a tease," Blaine announced after they'd parted. "And it isn't at all fair; _I'm_ going to be the one who fails French."

"Really?" Kurt asked coyly, head bobbing in once more. "I'm not so sure…I think you're pretty good at it." They met again and Blaine felt Kurt's tongue dart out and caress the underside of his top lip, drawing an unsolicited moan from the shorter boy. Kurt seemed to take that as a green light because his next kisses increased in deepness significantly.

Blaine broke off from Kurt's lips and traveled down the curve of his jaw and over the inward arch of his neck, planting dozens of small kisses on the way.

"Blaine –"

"Shh," Blaine mumbled. "You got yourself into this, Hummel. Such a tease…" His hand lifted and worked down the collar of Kurt's shirt again, exposing the pale shoulder that Kurt had been teasing him with in class. Gently, Blaine traced the curve with his lips, his hot breath making Kurt shiver.

"You wouldn't be so easy to tease if it weren't for this strange fetish you have," Kurt responded, voice trailing off as his own lips found their way to Blaine's ear and his tongue traced the delicately swirling shell.

After a moment he broke off again and simply buried his nose in Blaine's curls, inhaling the other boy's scent as his lips caressed his shoulder to his heart's content. He felt Blaine's chin tuck over his shoulder and they stood there for a few minutes, wrapped in each other's arms and reveling in their closeness.

The bell signaling the end of break came all too quickly. "Now _that's_ mean," Blaine commented, untangling himself from Kurt, who chucked lightly.

Wordlessly, Kurt grabbed his shoulder bag with one hand and linked together the fingers of the other with Blaine's free hand. He was grinning strangely and he pressed a kiss to Blaine's temple as they walked together down the hall. "So annoying," he whispered fondly, leaning his cheek briefly against the side of Blaine's curls. "So distracting."

"But you love me for it," Blaine clarified, shooting Kurt a wide grin.

"Yes," Kurt responded in a serious tone that was contrary to the goofy grin that spread across his face. "Yes, I do."

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><p><em>AN: And there we go, Blaine and his strange fetish with Kurt's bare shoulders is something I find endearing and I hope you enjoyed this bit of fluff! :)_

_**The two French sentences that Blaine and Kurt speak are proverb type things that vaguely translate as "desperate times call for desperate measures" and "fortune favors the innocent"._


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